


A Million Dreams, A Million Scars

by jennandblitz



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Anal Fingering, Blow Jobs, Come Marking, Explicit Sexual Content, Hogwarts Era, M/M, MWPP, Marauders, Mutual Pining, Oral Sex, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, Questioning Sexuality, Smut, Sort Of, because it accidentally got psychological, of course Sirius loves Remus' scars, scar kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-16
Updated: 2019-03-16
Packaged: 2019-11-08 16:12:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,191
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17984399
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jennandblitz/pseuds/jennandblitz
Summary: Sirius Black comes to realise something about himself over the years at Hogwarts.





	A Million Dreams, A Million Scars

**Author's Note:**

> For HP Kinkfest!  
>  **#S102:** Scar kink. Sirius worships Remus’s scars
> 
> Thank you to the anon that suggested this - it sparked my imagination immediately because I adore a Sirius that loves every bit of Remus! Thank you to LoserLikeSkeeter and shadow_prince for the fantastic beta reads, you made my ramblings readable!

It started off like the embers of a fire, flickering through his veins with a low hum, not quite noticeable enough until it snuck up on him and took him entirely by surprise.

Sirius remembered it like it was yesterday, stood at the large sink at the back of the Potions class with his robes thrown off and slung onto a nearby workstation, left in his shirt and trousers, tie long abandoned and lost somewhere. It was the middle of June, and boiling hot. Usually, the dungeons were fairly cool - they were underground after all - but the steaming sink full of water Sirius was currently elbow deep in, scrubbing at cauldrons, meant the dungeons were stiflingly warm too.

He supposed that was what they got for blowing up a whole classroom of Potions for the fourth time that year. James and Peter had been told to polish all the suits of armour in the West Wing, and Sirius and Remus were relegated to cleaning all the cauldrons without magic. Slughorn had seen it wise to split James and Sirius up lest they cause more trouble - a pretty sound assumption, really - and although he was best friends with Remus and Peter too, James was his best _best_ friend and he was bitterly unhappy to be stuck in the dungeons instead of out by the Black Lake having fun and wreaking havoc. Or at least wreaking havoc in detention with James.

Because of that, despite having only just started on his evening-long detention, Sirius was already pouting and huffing. Remus cast him a soft, placating smile as he dumped the last of the cauldrons into the sink to soak, and leant his hip against the counter to roll his shirtsleeves to the elbow.

Sirius cracked a smile, pausing from his aimless sloshing of the hot water to note just how much more comfortable Remus had become around his friends over the past three years. True, he definitely wouldn’t parade around in just his towel like James or no towel at all like Sirius, but he didn’t change in the bathroom anymore, content instead to get dressed quickly and quietly in the corner. It wouldn’t seem like much to anyone else, but since the rest of the Marauders found out about his lycanthropy, Remus had seemed a little more at ease.

So, whilst he’d seen glimpses of Remus’ bare skin before, this time it took him by surprise. He’d absolutely seen Remus’ arms before, in those brief moments of nakedness between changing. His shirt was definitely still on, but the sight of his scarred arms as he rolled up his sleeves stopped Sirius in his tracks. He honestly had seen them before, but maybe it was the heat of the day, maybe it was his exasperation at the whole situation, or the burgeoning swath of hormones careening through his body. Maybe it was the fact it was just him and Remus and no one else, and it was kind of steamy thanks to all the hot water.

But the sight of the light pink scar tissue of Remus’ arms made his mouth dry. The circular scars he knew were teeth marks around the meat of one forearm drew his attention and he closed his eyes briefly to imagine what they would feel like under his fingertips. The thought of it made white-hot desire bloom in the pit of his stomach and sent shivers down his spine. Before he could think on it any further, Sirius’ fingers slipped off the edge of the sink and sent his arms plunging nearly shoulder-deep into the hot soapy water, splashing it up over his face.

Sirius sputtered dramatically _. Merlin, this day could not get any worse!_

Remus’ hand went to his shoulder to pull him back onto his feet. “Sirius, Merlin, what happened? You alright?”

Sirius glanced up to see Remus trying his hardest not to laugh in Sirius’ face. He clearly knew that laughing at Sirius when he was in one of his _Black_ moods - James’ joke, not his - was akin to suicide, and would probably result in a nasty barrage of Stinging Hexes. But he probably did look kind of hilarious covered in soapy water, face dark as thunder, and he supposed it was kind of comical that he had all but fell into the bloody sink, but he wasn’t in the mood. Sirius shook off Remus’ hand from his shoulder, ignoring the fact the scars on his arms were so close to his face, so close he could reach out and touch them with his tongue… His cock practically twitched at the idea and Sirius wanted to upend the nearest table in frustration and confusion. _What was that meant to mean!?_

“I’m fine, Rem, just slipped,” Sirius spat, stepping away from the sinks and hoping his half-assed, confused-as-all-hell erection wasn’t completely obvious. “I’m going to the bog, if Sluggy comes back tell him he can bloody deal with it.”

With that, Sirius snatched his wand up to cast a quick drying spell, before he stormed out of the Potions classroom. He headed towards the bathrooms further along the corridor, hoping to Godric they were empty and everyone with a modicum of sense was outside enjoying the weather. Mercifully, when he threw open the bathroom door, it seemed like everyone _was_ being sensible, for once, and he quickly locked himself into one of the cubicles.

 _Morgana’s tits, Sirius,_ he thought. _What the fuck is going on with you? Where did that come from?_ He leant against the side and tilted his head back, letting out a long sigh.

The heat in the pit of his stomach hadn’t abated, the swirling feeling of heady desire that he couldn’t quite understand. Of course, he’d gotten turned on before, he was a teenage boy for Merlin's sake, but it was usually when he was thinking about the Magpies new female Beater. Especially that spread in Quidditch Monthly that James had torn out and cast a lamination charm on - the one he thought Sirius didn’t know about but Sirius definitely stole it from under his pillow when James was in the shower or at Quidditch practise. Or maybe that really fit Ravenclaw girl that he sat near during History of Magic and occasionally daydreamed about taking off her tantalisingly snug sweater.

But he definitely didn’t get a stiffy when looking at his _friend’s_ scarred arms. Or anyone’s scarred arms, or scarred anything, or anything about his friends at all for that matter! Merlin, none of it made any sense, and it was nigh on impossible to ignore the incessant throbbing in his groin to _touch, stroke, fuck, come on, come on, come on._

Sirius knocked his head back against the wall a few times to try and distract himself from the thought, but the vision of Remus’ scarred forearms clung to the forefront of his memory. He clenched his jaw shut, telling himself that if he closed his eyes then it definitely wasn’t happening, and undid his belt with shaky fingers. He could just whack one out and be back in the Potions classroom before Slughorn realised he was gone.

And hopefully Remus’ forearms wouldn’t have such disastrous consequences if his raging hormones had already been sated.

  


* * *

  


The second time it happened, it had to be a drunken accident.

They were all pleasantly drunk, the firewhisky had been passed around, an empty bottle already placed in the middle of the group. Sirius was sprawled between James and Marlene McKinnon, his head in Marlene’s lap, her long nails through his hair, his feet on James’ thigh. He could tell James was a little frustrated by Sirius’ feet in his lap - he was trying his hardest to woo Evans, and surely Sirius’ bare feet were a little bit of a put-off - but Sirius, as per usual, was being an antagonistic git and plopped his feet back into James’ lap every time his best mate shoved him away.

Sirius grinned up at Marlene, who smirked right back, the firewhisky dancing through her veins too. They were sort of dating, sort of just casually getting off when either of them had a free period, and Sirius wasn’t too sure if he was entirely into it. He wasn’t too sure if Marlene was either, he was usually quite good at figuring people out - he’d figured out Remus’ lycanthropy after all - and sometimes he thought Marlene looked at Dorcas Meadowes just a fraction too long.

But surely, a Saturday night, after a glorious Gryffindor win on the Quidditch pitch, wasn’t the time to wonder whether he was really attracted to the objectively pretty blonde he was currently slumped against. Not when there was firewhisky to drink, and dares to dish out!

James leant forward, shoved Sirius’ feet from his lap - which he promptly replaced - and span the empty mead bottle. It landed on Remus, who grinned wolfishly. It was only a few days until the full moon, and Remus was at his peak, all sharp teeth and sharp words, quick reflexes and the driest wit.

“Alright, Jamie-boy,” Remus’ voice was somehow syrupy and sharp all at once, “what’ll it be?”

James ruffled a hand through his hair and smiled his ‘award-winning’ grin. “Do you even need to ask? Dare, Rem.”

Remus’ grin widened. “Oooh-hoo, okay. I have a good one. Step one: strip to your pants.” James seemed thoroughly unaffected by the potential embarrassment and had already stood to start shedding his clothes. Evans promptly turned away with a shriek of distaste. Remus just grinned. “Step two: go down to the Quidditch shed, bring back a Snitch.”

James kicked off his trousers and threw them up so they hung from the light fitting. Marlene snorted with laughter and Evans threw her hands up. “Potter!”

Sirius grinned and waved his tumbler towards James. “Don’t look so pleased about getting to strut around in your pants, Jamie.”

James made a rude hand gesture and strutted towards the portrait-hole. “Very well, gentlemen and-” he winked at Marlene, Dorcas and Mary, before bowing low to Evans -“ _ladies._ I shall return, forthwith, with the Golden Snitch!” With that, James disappeared through the portrait hole, whistling what sounded like _God Rest Ye Merry Hippogriffs_ , even though it was November.

Sirius lost track of time, another tumbler of firewhisky, maybe two, lamenting the fact his feet were no longer tucked up against the human radiator that was James F. Potter. A cheer rose up from Peter, Mary and Dorcas - the ones facing the entryway - when James sprang back into the fray, tossing a Snitch up in one hand.

“To your satisfaction, Messer Lupin?” He struck a pose and held the Snitch out to show to Remus, who grinned and nodded.

“Very well, Messer Potter, very well.”

James gave him a salute and settled back in the circle, not bothering to redress. Evans rolled her eyes and shuffled closer to Mary. None of the Marauders batted an eyelid, which said something for how often James strutted around in his pants.

“My turn, my turn!” Sirius sang, leaning forward to give the bottle a spin, flicking his wrist flamboyantly. To his complete delight, the bottle slowed and landed on the bare legs of James Potter, his fellow prankster-extraordinaire, his only equal on the battlefield of Snivellus-baiting. Sirius’ eyes lit up with the fire of teenage camaraderie, and before his best mate could even open his mouth, Sirius spoke. “Dare, Jamie.”

James’ lips spread in a slow, self-assured smirk. He saw the fire of teenage camaraderie shining back in James’ eyes and wanted to howl with laughter in excitement and anticipation.

_Alright, Jamie, alright, let’s see what you got._

“Kiss Rem.”

Sirius’ eyes widened. “Sirius-ly?”

Everyone but James rolled their eyes at the pun their friend made at least ten times a day. James just grinned and folded his arms across his chest. “Be grateful I didn’t pick Pete.”

“Oi!”

Sirius held up his hands and nodded. “Alright, point taken.” He flashed his best Sirius Black grin at Remus, who was lounging back against the sofa, long legs crossed in front of him. If it weren’t for the firewhisky, Sirius would’ve noticed the odd flash of _something_ behind Remus’ moss green eyes. Sirius crawled forward over the bottle and fluttered his eyelashes. “C’mon then, sugar.”

Remus smiled, all sharp teeth and sharper wit, and crawled forward to meet him in the middle. Sirius wasn’t too sure who initiated the kiss, but it was only chaste for a second before it turned, fuelled by firewhisky and the jeers of the others. Sirius knew he was a good snog. He wasn’t a womaniser by any stretch of the imagination, but he did enjoy the attention of others. So when their lips met, Sirius expected to be able to take Remus apart, leave his friend shuddering, unable to even look at that cute Hufflepuff he’d taken to Puddifoot’s a few times without knowing she would never be able to kiss him like the great Sirius Black would.

He absolutely, categorically did not expect the rush of blood to his cock as soon as Remus’ lips pressed against his, and had to clench his fist in the rug beneath him to try and hold back a vicious moan. Sirius had never, ever been kissed like this before. At first, he couldn’t put his finger on why it felt so different, why it felt like the world was melting away and he wanted to crawl into Remus’ lap, press him back against the sofa and kiss the living daylights out of him.

Then Remus’ lips parted, and Sirius felt the soft shift of scar tissue against his lips. The scar, the one Remus had been so self-conscious about when he’d received it a few months prior, the one that ran from just beneath his right nostril and nicked its way over his top lip. Sirius had told him repeatedly, fresh out of the Hospital Wing, that it was a damn sexy scar, and made him look like a pirate - a real marauder - but he’d said it in jest. He told all of the Marauders they were sexy - Pete when he had to make a mad dash from the bathroom to his trunk when he forgot to take his towel in with him, James when Evans threw the third goblet of pumpkin juice that day over him, ruining his precious hair, Remus with his… well, with his scars…

The smoothness of that scar slid against Sirius’ mouth as Remus slowly pulled back from their kiss. Sirius’ eyes flickered open, almost forgetting they were in the middle of the common room, and that this was a dare, of all things. Remus looked a little confused at the strange look in Sirius’ eyes, and Merlin, was he fucking blushing? His cheeks felt warm, but he didn’t think he had enough blood in the rest of his body to blush given the way his cock seemed to have sprang to life.

Sirius sat back and touched his fingers to his lip in the exact place of Remus’ scar. The thought of it against his lips made him shiver. Remus quirked one curious eyebrow, but settled himself back against the sofa, accepting another Butterbeer from Dorcas next to him. Sirius shuffled back, snatching up his tumbler of firewhisky and holding it in his lap to try and disguise and abate this tenacious fucking hard-on.

But it had to be an accident, right? A horrific combination of firewhisky, the wolf simmering under Remus’ skin making him all sharp smiles, the dare, the elation of the Quidditch match. There was silence for a moment, before Marlene leant forward and span the bottle, then the rest of the night was lost to raucous cheering and far, far too much firewhisky.

The next morning, hangover potion already downed, Sirius stood in the shower and touched the same place on his own lip with one hand, whilst the other wrapped around his cock.

  


* * *

  


The third time, Sirius felt blindsided. How had he missed this, for all this time?

The revelation came, as most tended to, on his knees. The dark, cramped space of a broom cupboard wasn’t the usual place for revelations, though, in Sirius’ experience. But here he was, Gid’s hands tangled in his hair, nuzzling his way down the other boys stomach towards the tented crotch of his trousers.

“Merlin, Sirius…” Gideon breathed, canting his hips forward.

Sirius had done this a few times, in his seemingly never-ending quest to figure out whether he was bent or not. Experimentation seemed the most valid way of figuring it out after all. And he had definitely figured out he quite liked sucking cock - he’d already established that, but now he was just absolutely making sure…

Rucking up the other boy’s shirt, Sirius kissed his way down the planes of his stomach en route to one of his favourite activities. But his heart practically stuttered into his throat as his lips skimmed across a slice of scar tissue. Sirius laved his tongue over the scar, a long, twisting thing that hooked over one hip and disappeared under the waistband of his trousers. He didn’t care where it came from, duelling maybe, climbing trees as a kid, Sirius didn’t give a shit. His heart was pounding, his erection was throbbing desperately, he couldn’t think properly at the sudden stab of pleasure striking him through.

 _Oh fuck_ , Sirius thought, blinking rapidly against the rush of it all, his cock now painfully hard in his trousers, growing damp with pre-come. How had he missed this? The link was so obvious now, there was nothing else it could’ve been, nothing else to blame this on except the damn scar. It all made sense, Remus’ forearms in second year, the twist of scar tissue at his lip on that drunken night. No firewhisky this time, no heat of the summer or the room to skew the results.

His fingers shook as he fumbled with Gid’s belt and unceremoniously shoved his trousers down his thighs. It said something that Sirius didn’t care about his newly exposed cock, and was instead almost obsessed with finding out where that scar finished. It came to an abrupt end at the top of his thigh and Sirius shifted slightly to follow it with his tongue.

Gideon tightened a hand in his hair, canting his hips forward again to try and bring Sirius back to the part of him that was desperate for attention. They had done this a few times before, it was mutually beneficial after all, but how had Sirius not noticed the scar before? How had he missed _all_ of this? Sirius moaned softly, one hand going down to tend to his own erection, the other curling around the base of Gid’s cock, two fingers splaying out to brush across that damn scar tissue.

Shit, he couldn’t think straight, how did he find that fucking scar hotter than his fucking cock?

Sirius closed his eyes and swallowed Gid down to the root, moaning happily at the tightening of hands in his hair, the shift of his hips and the corresponding shift of the scar at the top of his thigh. Sirius’ own cock twitched longingly under his hand and he thought for a terrifying moment he might actually come just from that. He swirled his tongue, stroked his fingers, hummed in the back of his throat, everything he’d learned, barely even focusing on the damn blowjob when all he could think of was that fucking scar.

Gid came with a long, satisfied hiss of breath and Sirius swallowed against the hot spurt down his throat. He shifted to the side, letting the other boys softening cock slip out of his mouth, and rested his head against his hip. Only to find that scar under his nose. _Fuck, fuck, fuck_ \- Sirius kissed the thing, wishing somehow that it was lighter in the broom cupboard so he could see the colour of it, whether it was silvered or still new and pink, and his cock leapt hungrily at the idea.

Sirius moaned and knelt up a little, palming a hand over the head of his cock through his trousers. It took an embarrassingly short amount of time before Sirius was coming, tongue curling over the smooth scar with something close to a whimper in his throat.

He sat back on his heels and touched the place of Remus’ scar on his lip with shaking fingers. Godric, not only was he bent, he apparently got off to scars now too?

  


* * *

  


The fourth time, Sirius was utterly fucked, so completely utterly fucked, and his priorities were obviously so hugely fucking skewed that he was narrowly avoiding just bashing his own head against the nearest wall in frustration.

It was the morning after the full moon, his _first_ full moon with Remus, his first full moon as an Animagus, his first full moon seeing his best friend transform into a bloody werewolf. Sirius should’ve been concerned with Remus’ wellbeing, he should’ve been gleeful that their scheme actually worked, that the werewolf hadn’t ripped them all to shreds, or he should’ve been concerned that they needed to get back under the cloak and back to the castle before Pomfrey appeared.

But instead, Sirius was staring, slack-jawed, eyes wide, at the collection of scars littering Remus’ limbs, bared in the dawn light in a way Sirius hadn’t seen before. James had eased his way into the room once the howls of the werewolf sank into the groans of their friend, and laid a blanket across his middle to give him a semblance of dignity. Sirius sank to a knee next to Remus, subtly adjusting his untucked shirt to try and hide his rapidly hardening erection.

“Rem?” He reached out with shaky fingers to touch his friend’s shoulder, the three-clawed scar that ran across his shoulder blade.

Remus’ voice was croaky from howling all night, but his smile was warm and sleep-soft. “Sirius? Did it work?” He came to, remembering that his friends were in the Shack with him for the first time, and sat up wild-eyed. The scar on his lip caught the burgeoning dawn light. “Is everything okay? None of you are hurt?”

James sank to his knees on Remus’ other side and put a reassuring hand on his upper arm. Sirius felt a flash of possessive jealousy at James’ fingers over the claw marks on Remus’ wonderfully blemished skin, the perfect imperfections of it, the collections of freckles, the scars bisecting them all, a palette of silver and pink amongst his pale skin. “It all worked, Rem, don’t worry… everything’s fine.”

Remus sank back with relief and let out a puff of breath that ruffled his sweat-damp hair. “Merlin… okay, good… good.” Sirius shifted so Remus could lean against him, and every particle of blood in his body ran south at the pressure of Remus’ scarred back against his bare arms. Sirius wrapped an arm around his body and tried not to think about how good Remus smelled, earthy and bare and beautiful, a palette of pink and silver amongst all of his freckles.

Just to try and think of something else, Sirius snatched his wand from his pocket. In response to Remus’ look of confusion, Sirius smiled softly. “I learned a few healing spells, just in preparation… just in case… Jamie found a good book in the Restricted Section.” His hands were shaking but he could hide it with a wry smirk and his proclivity for Charms.

Remus’ smile was beautiful, that scar on his lip glinting gorgeously. “Thanks, Sirius… that’s so kind of you.”

Sirius swallowed back the guilt at the idea that he had only learned the spells so that he could help with the scars, so he could see them, get closer to them, give him an excuse to _touch_ them. That definitely wasn’t it, he wanted to help his friend after all. Wasn’t that what all of this was for, to help Remus? Not some misguided attempt for Sirius to get his rocks off.  “No problem, Rem… that’s what friends do, don’t they?”

James rose from his position next to them and nodded reassuringly at the two of them. “I’ll go and wake Pete, then we can keep an eye out for Pomfrey,” he said before slipping back out of the room, leaving Sirius and Remus alone in the dusty bedroom of the Shack.

Remus smiled at him, all openly warm in the morning light, clearly so grateful for the presence of his friends in the dawn light after all these years. Sirius swallowed back a moan, directed his wand towards a new gouge across Remus’ forearm, and muttered a healing spell, hating himself for hoping the wound wouldn’t close properly. Sirius tightened the arm around his shoulder, burying his face in Remus’ hair and inhaling the comforting scent of the forest. This felt so _right_ , curled up with Remus, tending to him after the moon, healing his wounds, burying his face in Remus’ coppery hair.

Great, so now he was bent, getting off on scars, and apparently arse over tit in love with his best mate?

  


* * *

  


The fifth time, it wasn’t an accident. It wasn’t a problem, and Sirius was completely submerged in it, drowning in the best way. He was drowning in Remus, a wonderful way to go.

It was Boxing Day 1977, and Sirius was sat in vigil by Remus’ bedside. Madame Pomfrey had released him from the Hospital Wing a few hours earlier, and Remus had crawled into bed to sleep the rest of the moon off. Sirius waited for him to stir, partly because that was his duty as Remus’ boyfriend, and partly because he knew Remus would be upset when he woke up. Quietly, though, he had to admit, there was another part of him that was really enjoying the look of Remus’ skin in the lamplight. The fresh scar across his nose could only look beautiful to Sirius.

Who knows why it had happened, maybe Remus’ bubbling resentment about the full moon being on Christmas Day had affected the wolf, maybe their melancholy talk about it being the last Christmas at Hogwarts had put him on the wrong foot - well, _paw_. Maybe Padfoot and Prongs had been a little too rambunctious in playing with Moony to keep him busy. Sirius didn’t know how it had happened, but Remus’ track record of not marking his face further than the odd nick had been broken.

Remus stirred and shifted. Sirius immediately moved to sit next to him on the mattress, gingerly touching his fingers to the hair at his temple. Merlin, he loved him. Sirius wondered for a while if he were even capable of love after growing up in Grimmauld Place, but here he was, loving Remus so intently his heart might burst out of his chest.

“Pads?” Remus’ voice was sleep-soft again, it was his favourite kind of Remus.

“‘M, here Moons. Right here.” Sirius leant down and kissed the corner of his mouth.

Remus smiled wider and pushed himself up into sitting. The scar over his nose looked even more beautiful in the flickering light, now his face wasn’t pressed into his pillow. He saw Sirius looking and a frown ghosted across his features. Sirius sat back onto the bed a little further and leant over to loosen the curtains from each bedpost, letting them swing forward around them.

Remus watched him for a moment longer before reaching for his wand. “Pomfrey taught me a glamour charm… for whilst it’s healing…” Remus vaguely gestured to the wound across his face. Sirius wanted to tell him that he shouldn’t need a charm, that he was beautiful just how he was, that the scar was like his crowning glory, Sirius’ roadmap to Moony.

But instead, Remus muttered _Finite Incantatem_ and the glamour spell vanished, revealing what was a silvering scar over his nose to really be a long, angry red gash, still scabbing and healing once the glamour fizzled away. He’d already had the glamour charm in place - that was what made it silvered and healed, Sirius realised. But now it was soft and red, angry and fresh in its newness, no time to heal yet. Sirius huffed out a breath and tried not to notice the twitch his cock gave at the sight. Remus looked away to set his wand down and a flush crept up his neck.

“Oh… Moons…” Sirius moved forward, going to cup Remus’ jaw.

Remus tensed under his touch and reached for his wand again. “I’ll put the charm back on, I can just… keep it on all the time.”

“Don’t.” Sirius’ voice came out more urgent than he expected, reaching for Remus’ hand and lacing their fingers. “Don’t. I don’t mind it- I- I love it.”

A frown flickered over Remus’ face again, his expressions always came in dribs and drabs, as if his emotions only slipped through the mask every so often before he could recover them. Sirius lived for those moments. He crawled forward, shifting into Remus’ lap, and kissed him softly to try and say everything he couldn’t find the words for.

When Sirius pulled back, gasping for breath, one hand tangled gingerly in Remus’ hair, Remus was smiling slightly, the confusion still clouding his moss-green eyes. “Pads? What…”

Sirius shook his head a little, shifting down to trail kisses down a scar at Remus’ neck. He’d done that before, kissed his way along Remus’ constellations, but never so brazenly, he’d never come face to face with his bubbling attraction to every bit Remus thought was awful. His fingers deftly unbuttoned Remus’ pyjama top and helped him slip out of it, limbs still stiff and sore from the moon. Remus’ chest was rapidly rising and falling, Sirius could feel his cock hardening beneath his thigh even with the exhaustion of the moon lingering.

Remus tangled his fingers through Sirius’ hair, freshly washed that morning and still damp, and shifted beneath him to move further down on the bed. “Pads…” he breathed again, teeth raking over his bottom lip and just tilting that damn scar to the light all over again. Merlin, he was so beautiful.

“I love every bit of you, Rem,” Sirius muttered, skimming his hands across Remus’ chest, toned and lightly muscled with rangy youth, criss-crossed with beautiful pink and silver. He illustrated his point by pressing a hot, open-mouthed kiss over a particularly gnarled scar at his shoulder, raised and pink, and hissed softly as his own body responded. “Every single bit of you.” Another kiss, shifting down to nip softly along the lines of another scar, then another hot breathy press to the raking of a claw across his pectoral. He followed that scar down to a pert nipple, bisected by the end of the scar, and traced it with feather light kisses, his whole body shuddering.

Understanding and recognition flickered behind Remus’ eyes, another slip of his mask, emotions sneaking through and bubbling forth - only for Sirius, only for this moment - draped around them, private, intimate. Sirius nodded, pressing his open mouth down the lines of Remus’ stomach, and looked up to meet his gaze, trying to convey everything.

Turned out just saying _I have an incredible kink for your scars, Remus, the thought of kissing them gets me off almost every time I wank_ , was quite difficult, but Remus seemed to understand. Sirius shifted and pressed his own clothed erection against Remus’ thigh to try and get some much needed friction. He traced the werewolf bite with his tongue, a flat stripe leaving the scar slick and shiny and Sirius felt his cock twitch again. He looked up to see Remus’ eyes clear with comprehension.

“C’mere, Pads, c’mere.” Remus’ fingers were in his hair, twisting through the strands but Sirius didn’t want to leave, he wanted to stay here against the scars, learning them all with his tongue under the bright lights of a secret aired between them. Sirius slid his tongue under the waistband of Remus’ pyjama bottoms, tracing the bite mark down beneath the fabric, and whimpered. He paused, pushing the heel of his hand against his own erection to try and tamp down on the idea he might come there, pressed against Remus’ most painful scar.

At Remus’ soft insistence, Sirius crawled back up over his prone form, meeting his needy kiss with a moan. Remus’ hips canted up towards him and Sirius hissed softly. Usually, they tended not to have sex right after the moon. If they did, it would be something slow and loving and affectionate and mostly sedentary on Remus’ side of things, but Merlin, Sirius was buzzing with the tension between them, this damn new scar and the fire it started in Sirius’ stomach.

Sirius pulled back enough to press a deliberate kiss to the scar at Remus’ lip. “This one’s my favourite… I remember… that time Prongs dared me to kiss you…”

Remus chuckled and stroked a hand down his back to his arse, pressing their hips closer. “I remember that. When I realised I loved you.”

Sirius smiled, pulling back properly to look at Remus. His eyes flickered to that fresh scar, still angry and red and healing and of course, Remus looked practically angelic in this light, all filtered through the curtains into his coppery hair. The air around them seemed to thicken impossibly, and Sirius leant forward slowly, his heart in his throat. Remus’ hands found his waist and tightened. Sirius shifted forward a little, his prick impossibly hard in his pants, and moaned softly.

The seconds seemed to crawl out in front of them, Sirius’ tongue darting out in a flat stripe over the full length of the scar, right from the corner of his mouth, up over the bridge of his nose and veering across the other cheekbone. He watched Remus so carefully, flicking his tongue over the edge of the scar. Sirius wasn’t sure if he expected fresh scars to _taste_ different, but he only tasted Remus, felt his whole body tense underneath him at the overt declaration of Sirius’ love for his scars. Sirius whined at the sensation of it, Remus and all of his flaws, and pressed his forehead against Remus’, eyes flickering all over his face. His gaze traced that new scar and he couldn’t help rocking his hips forward, grinding against Remus’ cock.

“Merlin, Pads, I want you, I want you.” Remus tugged on Sirius’ shirt. Sirius sat back and quickly shed the rest of his clothes, stripping Remus of his pyjama bottoms too. Sirius stopped to look at his boyfriend, lying there in all of his splendour and bit his lip to choke back another moan.

“You’re so beautiful, Moons, so damn beautiful.”

Remus chuckled and drew Sirius closer again with a hand at the back of his neck. “Your eyesight needs checking, Padfoot.”

“No, I mean it,” Sirius responded quickly, closing the gap to kiss Remus square on the lips, sliding his tongue over the seam of his lips, exploring the hot cavern of his mouth. He imagined he held the taste of every single one of Remus’ scars on his tongue, as if he could show his boyfriend just how wonderful he really was, just what Sirius saw, what he felt, when he looked at Remus like that. “I love you, every bit of you, you’re so gorgeous.” Sirius slid his hand down over the planes of Remus’ stomach, wrapped his fingers around his hard prick and stroked over him in long, smooth motions. “You’re so, so beautiful, every bit of you Rem, every bit, all the imperfect bits.” Sirius shifted to the side and kissed a scar on his shoulder. “I could kiss every bit of you.”

“Pads,” Remus breathed, tilting his head back with a low moan as Sirius continued to work him over, expert fingers twisting, thumb teasing the head of his prick. “I love you too, but fuck me already, will you?”

Sirius stilled a little. “It’s the day after the moon, Rem… I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You won’t, you won’t. I - _ah,_ just want you, you make it feel better - _fuck Padfoot_ , I’m too wired to sleep now.”

“Alright, alright, Moons.” Sirius pressed up to kiss him tenderly. He couldn’t ever refuse Remus, not ever, especially not like this with his body under him, his cock warm in Sirius’ palm and those lovely noises coming from his scarred lips. “Okay, let me love you, then.” Sirius whispered a quick lubrication spell into his palm and watched in delight as Remus writhed beneath him with the new slickness of his touch, shallow breaths, teeth on his bottom lip. After a few languid pulls, Sirius shifted down, kissing over another long slash of scar tissue at his stomach.

“Let me love you, Moons,” he murmured again, settling between Remus’ legs and pressing a kiss to the tip of his cock.

Remus shuddered and lifted his head to watch Sirius, who grinned back up at him. He looked so beautiful like this, Sirius thought, curling his tongue around the head of his cock, those scars like shards of silk, knitted all over him. Sirius surged forward, swallowing Remus as deep as he could, throat working, ears pricking to hear the moan of delight from above him. He pressed his nose into the deep golden curls of Remus’ lower stomach and worked his tongue over the sensitive underside of Remus’ cock, the head pushing gently but insistently at the back of his throat. He shifted, still-slick fingers sliding down between Remus’ legs. The pad of his finger stroked over Remus’ arsehole, feeling it shudder beneath his touch. He knew from experience it was the same soft pink colour as his scars, the raw, open place of Remus only he knew, the place Remus let him in, the same soft pink, greedily sucking in Sirius’ finger when he gently pushed against the pucker of it.

Remus let out a long moan. “Oh Godric, Pad-Padfoot, that's so good, _so good_.”

Sirius hummed in response and eased his finger in further, first knuckle, second knuckle, Remus welcoming him in to all the soft pink places of him, the scars still open and sore, his body laid out for Sirius to pleasure. Sirius knew he wouldn’t ever tire of feeling Remus’ body around him, so tight and wet and warm, torn between pushing down onto his finger or fucking up into his waiting mouth. Sirius’ eyelids fluttered a little, he didn’t want to close his eyes, didn’t want to miss any part of Remus coming apart and knitting back together beneath him with all their secrets aired.

Sirius’ other hand came to Remus’ hip, thumb brushing over another scar, feeling his own prick twitch in a bid for attention, but this wasn’t about him, it was about Remus. Sirius shifted, pressing his own hips into the mattress in an attempt for friction, moaning happily onto Remus’ cock at the shudder of pleasure. He slid his thumb along the werewolf bite, the scar Remus hated the most, as he crooked his finger to stroke over Remus’ prostate.

“Pads- Pads, please, please, _please_. I’m go-” Remus’ fingers clenched in his hair and Sirius hummed happily, knowing that Remus both loved to hear him and feel the vibrations of his throat. He crooked his finger again, and again, hitting that spot every time with practised motions until Remus stiffened underneath him. Sirius didn’t splutter or lose his rhythm as Remus came hot and hard down his throat, the familiar taste at the back of his mouth that he swallowed down hungrily, hungry for every bit of Remus, all of his imperfections.

Sirius finally drew back when Remus sank boneless into the bed, pulling off his cock with a ridiculous popping noise that made him want to moan and laugh in equal parts. Before he even thought properly, he had wrapped his fingers, still slick and warm from Remus’ hole, around his own cock. Remus panted desperately for breath, still coming down from the throes of his orgasm, but urged Sirius closer all the same, hands still tangled in his hair, pulling him up until Sirius straddled his waist, one hand braced on the headboard, the other still working feverishly over his cock.

Remus watched him with hot, hungry eyes, drinking in every bit of him as Sirius dropped his chin to his chest. His hand from the headboard slid down to cup Remus’ jaw, then slide a finger across the swell of his bottom lip. Remus grinned, eagerly sucking Sirius’ fingers into his mouth, another soft pink place, a place of rawness, openness, only Sirius knew. He moaned sharply at Remus’ tongue between his fingers, thrusting into his own hand now.

“Fuck, _fuck_ , Moony, _fuck._  I love you, your fucking mouth _, fuck_.”

It didn’t take long, Sirius already so thoroughly worked over by Remus and all his soft pink places, the sight of the scar in the candlelight as Remus watched him avidly. He forced himself to keep his eyes open, white-hot tinting the edges of his vision as he came over Remus’ torso, painting the werewolf bite, an angry claw at his pectoral, the circled scars of teeth in his shoulder. One spurt caught Remus’ face, his fingers at the corner of Remus’ mouth, the silvered scar at his top lip, the end of the new scar, made silver by his come.

Sirius fell forward, sliding his fingers from Remus’ mouth to thumb along his jaw and back into his hair.  After a moment to catch his breath, he shifted to lick a stripe from the corner of Remus’ mouth, the taste of him on his own tongue as he turned the scar back to its natural soft pink. Remus smiled and turned to meet his lips in a kiss, the two of them tangled together, all their soft pink places open and bared. With an appreciative murmur, Remus broke the kiss and sank back into the bed. Sirius pitched to the side to press his nose against Remus’ cheek, his weight off of Remus’ body, legs still entwined.

Remus smiled muzzily, carding his fingers through Sirius’ hair, and tilted his neck to give his lover a little more space. They laid there for a while, entangled, growing cooler and stickier and all the things that should be considered entirely unromantic and quite gross, but Sirius didn’t care. He lifted his head and slid a thumb over the scar at Remus’ lip, heart soaring at the grin that bloomed onto his face. Sirius leant up and kissed the silvered line of it, then the still-red end of the longer scar across his cheek and found that the motion said everything he couldn’t quite put into words.

Remus cast an idle cleansing charm and gathered Sirius into him, a mess of warm limbs and a looseness that only came with the airing of secrets. Sirius drifted off tracing the patchwork pink lines on Remus’ forearm, feeling Remus’ smile pressed against his hair.


End file.
